Reflection
by Meridian1
Summary: Neo's ponderings, taking place after the movie


Reflection Disclaimer: I didn't write a disclaimer on my last piece, so, to halt impending lawsuits on that, I claim the right to extend this disclaimer over all my pieces in total. Basically, I have no authority given to me by anyone even remotely connected with "The Matrix" with which to write this story. The characters are not mine, any of them. They belong to whoever does own them (I'm sure they know who they are). Please, I'm going to lose my license to speeding, so take pity on me, and don't sue me. Please? 

     "Who are you?" I looked at my reflection. Needless to say, it didn't answer me. Not only was it not alive, it wasn't even real. The bridge was fake too, so was the railing against which I was leaning. Would have been nice if the water was real. I could jump off the bridge and sink and sink and never reach the surface again. That would be it. Maybe everyone would think it was an accident. 

     Time to stop that kind of thinking. Life wasn't shitty enough, yet. Who was I kidding? Life was better than it ever had been, and that was what was so depressing. I had it easier than most in some ways, but for every advantage, I had twice the responsibility. I'm not a leader, I'm a...well, for lack of a better word, soldier. I follow orders, I admire my superiors, and I respect anyone who has ever realized the truth. Now, I had to be a leader, a commander, a hero, and some kind of savior. Everyone believes in me, hell, I believe in me, too. But none of that makes being a leader any easier. 

     The worst part? I can see my friends and superiors turning into followers, becoming nothing more than believers. They are still themselves, but they're fading fast, and I guess that's why I came to this bridge. To remind them, remind myself, that I am still mortal, and I don't know all the answers. It could happen here, just like that. A bicyclist could come roaring down this sidewalk, knock into me and over I'd go because I forgot that I don't have to obey the rules of gravity; I'd die because I'd panic and remember just how mortal I am. 

     Morpheus keeps trying to pretend it can't happen. It happened once. I forgot the rules don't apply to me, and I died. I never want to admit it, but if I were to die again, I know he'd wait an impossibly long time for me to revive. It doesn't happen more than once. I used up my "get-out-of-death-free" pass. I can't explain how I know this, but I do. I've tried to tell Morpheus, but I either lose my words or he doesn't listen. 

     When we first met, I could barely speak. I had been looking for Morpheus for years. I read every article about his bold actions, his narrow escapes, and his ever-lengthening list of crimes. I cross-checked every news report to look for patterns, anything that might tell me more than some criminologist's "educated" guess. I guess I looked up to him; I wanted to be that way. Elusive, untouchable, smarter than anyone on my trail. I didn't realize that by looking for Morpheus I was improving my abilities. I thought I was searching, what I was doing was learning and training. My quest to discover Morpheus' secret woke a sleeping feeling of doubt that I now can put a name to, a feeling Morpheus aptly described as "a splinter in your mind, driving you mad". At the time, I wouldn't dare deny that: I thought I was mad. 

     The truth made sense, and that was what made me feel crazy. It made more sense to have my whole life be a lie than for that feeling to be simple psychosis. Morpheus was my mentor, and I believed what he told me. Sure, I was skeptical at first, that whole business about being 'the One' sounded like garbage, but Morpheus was too avid for it not to have a grain of truth. When I told the Oracle that he had almost convinced me, I was lying. He had convinced me. I can't remember a time I was more confused than right after the Oracle told me I wasn't the One. 

     Amidst that confusion, however, I thought more clearly than I ever had. Somehow, I just knew what to do. How to save Morpheus, how to save Trinity, it just made sense; maybe that's because I wasn't thinking, who knows? I had an outline before me, telling me the future. I was damned if I did and if I didn't. When I stopped thinking about myself is when I became the One. Morpheus had to be safe; I wouldn't let him die, so he didn't. Trinity was in trouble, but she had saved me, and it was unacceptable to let her die. I refused to allow the expected to happen. That's what I can do; I stop the expected and let the amazing and impossible happen. 

     And that is why I am so depressed. Morpheus looks at me differently. He gives me orders still, but I know he is still in awe of me. Everyday, this great warrior, the man I idolized, becomes a little more the believer, the follower. I can't stand it. I don't want to be some sort of god, and I don't want to be in charge. Most people hate to be tools, but not me. I don't mind being a weapon, something that you use to fight but that ultimately obeys your command. I wouldn't be who I am without Morpheus. Yet from day one, he has been ready to worship my abilities. If I do end up losing him to some kind of religious crusade based on me, I will never forgive myself. 

     But I won't end it. I can't destroy fate it would seem. I never believed in it, but the Oracle opened a Pandora's box of questions that I can't explain without fate. I sat for hours, thinking about what she said about her predictions. She asked me to consider whether or not I thought what she said would come true whether or not she said it. At the time, I had other thoughts on my mind, but I think about it constantly now. I've had to revise my ideas on fate. I believe there is such a thing as fate. Some things are meant to happen. How they happen is where fate lets free will take over. I had a choice once, a choice fate put before me. I could have let Morpheus die; I would have felt guilty, but I could have done it. I chose the path of better karma, I guess. 

     Thinking about fate always reminds me of Trinity. She says she had the same problem sorting out her own ideas on that subject. On bad days, I think she just loves me because she was told she would. As soon as I think that, I kick myself. It cheapens what she feels, what I feel for her. I love Trinity. I wasn't told that I would, I just do. She didn't have to love me until I proved that I was the One, according to fate. But she did love me, before. I wasn't anything special, yet for some reason, she loved me. God, I love her. Every time I get depressed, like now, I think of her, and I'm cheered again. I'm feeling better this minute, in fact. 

     Trinity once asked me what it was like to die. I told her I don't know. I don't remember being dead. I remember being shot; I remember her talking to me, kissing me. I can remember the taste of her lips on mine, the sound of her voice telling me I had to get up. Every time I try and remember I come back to a question I've asked myself ever since Morpheus told me the Oracle's prophecy. 

     "Who are you?" Morpheus said that the man who freed the first resistors died, and the Oracle had prophesized his return. What did that mean? Was I someone else? Am I that man? I never thought about reincarnation until that moment. Even after I manifested my abilities, I still thought I was myself. I tried to tell myself that I only have the same powers, that the only thing I have in common with that guy is my ability to defy the matrix reality. I just don't know. Did Neo die and get replaced? Is that why I think I can only die once? 

     Too many questions. Questions are depressing, and depression always brings me to this bridge. I have a choice here. Once more, I have the option. I can jump, I can end it, and maybe I'll learn the answers in the afterlife, if it exists. Then I think about reincarnation, and I think about coming back. Damn it! I can't win. Maybe I don't have the choice anywhere. 

     "Penny for your thoughts, stranger?" Trinity. At a time like this, she was my angel. She wasn't dressed any differently, black leather and shades, as always. A jogger gave her a funny look as he passed. To me, she was more beautiful than ever. No one usually bothered me when I came here. She knew something was different. The questions had gotten more worrisome. The second she spoke, though, the questions disappeared. I didn't care if it was some grand design or all a fluke. All I knew was Trinity and I were too good, too real to matter.

      "I was thinking about something...very forgettable," I smiled. I had to hug her. She let me. I know why I don't jump. Morpheus may look up to me, may see me as some savior, but I know the truth. Trinity keeps my feet on the ground. I hate thinking of love as a weakness, but love is exactly what makes me flustered. It makes me strong, too, and without Trinity, I'd have jumped a long time ago. Every time she kisses me, every time she tells me she loves me, I wonder why I get to be so lucky, and she knows it. That's why she's here now. I can't find a trace of that depression that had me poised on a ledge between sanity and madness.

      "Are you going to come back any time soon?" She didn't have to ask. I look into her eyes and see that she worries too. I still can't believe she loves me, and I find it nearly impossible to believe that she feels lucky to be loved by me. A kiss. A kiss to remind me exactly how much of a lucky son-of-a-bitch I am. 

     "Are you kidding? I never miss dinner." She laughs, so do I. Tension never lasts when we're together. I joke around, making her smile. Once she smiles, I'm on another plane of existence. I hug her tighter, and I don't let her stop kissing me.

      "Get a room!" Another jogger yells. "Jealous!" I answer. Trinity chuckles. It really is something to see someone who looks as tough as Trinity laugh. She looks even more gorgeous. I kiss her with my eyes open to make sure she doesn't disappear. The jogger was right, though. This was great, but I'd rather it was real. 

     "So, what about that room?" I whisper in her ear. We both know the answer. In minutes, we'll exit and a few minutes later, we'll ignore our problems in the privacy of one of our rooms. 

     Unless, of course, there's an emergency. There had better not be. 

The End 


End file.
